Legends Never Die
by JadziaKathryn
Summary: Eighty years after Voyager returns to the Alpha Quadrant, the Doctor thinks about his life...and whether it's time for it to end.


Disclaimer: Paramount owns them all, and I don't. It's not like I'm making money from this anyway.  
  
Author's Notes: As this is the Doctor's story, I've tried to avoid pairings of other characters that I feel would distort the focus of the story. Tom and B'Elanna are the only couple I have. So imagine other pairings as you like them, I guess. Feedback is greatly appreciated.  
  
LEGENDS NEVER DIE  
  
Miral had left the realm of the living. He had stayed with her until the end, along with her two sons. There was nothing he could do for her anymore, but she wanted him there as a friend. "You've always been a part of my life," she had said. That was true. He had been there when she was born, when she graduated from the Academy, when she got married, both times her own children were born. She cried on his holographic shoulder when Tom and B'Elanna had died, and when her husband had joined them. He had been there for her from the beginning to the end.  
  
Miral was the last of them, now. There was nobody else left from Voyager but him. It had been eight decades, and he looked the same as the day he was first activated. Naomi had died a few years ago, after a long and happy life. Her mother had been gone for thirty years by then. Tom and B'Elanna had died within two days of each other. Chakotay had joined his ancestors decades ago now. Borg implants had saved neither Seven nor Icheb from death. Captain Harry Kim had died when his ship was attacked by a hostile race in the Gamma Quadrant. Time had even claimed Tuvok and Vorik, long- lived as Vulcans are. Transmissions from the Delta Quadrant had informed them that Neelix had died a peaceful death with his family.  
  
Captain Janeway had been the first one to go. She died in the final battle with the Borg. Nobody could keep her away from the front lines for the defeat of the Borg, and she had been instrumental in that defeat. Sadly, it had cost her life. She was leading the Alpha wing of the Fleet on the U.S.S. Alamo, and her ship took a heavy beating. Still, after a broken leg, she led the attack from the bridge. She wouldn't let him take her to Sickbay, and he had refrained from overriding her authority. This battle was important to her; it was personal. He had been there on Voyager, so he understood like no other doctor could've. It took the shockwave from a cube's destruction to cause her death when her command console blew up. He couldn't save her, but she knew that. In a way, he suspected, she had know this would be her last mission. "Take care of them," had been her last words.  
  
Her will had requested a closed funeral; only her family and the crew of Voyager were allowed to attend. They had shared their memories of her, and mourned together, and they all knew that they would never see the likes of her again. "She's already a legend," Harry had remarked, tears in his eyes. It was ironic that the words of comfort came from Seven. "And legends never die," she had replied.  
  
That made him think now. They were all gone, and he was still there. Starfleet hadn't deactivated him or put him to work like most holograms, because he was part of the Voyager legend. He was free to go his own way and do what he wanted. And in time, as the other crewmembers died, he became the historian, the ultimate source for information about Voyager. He had written a book about the experience, and at Starfleet's request, he had even made a speech once. He went to the museum, where he was allowed privileged access, when he wanted to remember. He could sit in his old office, and it was almost like the old days again, even after they had been home for decades.  
  
It was there that he recalled the christening of the U.S.S. Janeway. It had been shortly before Miral had gotten sick, and he had deferred the high honor to her. She, retired Admiral Miral Paris, daughter of Voyager's Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres, had sent the ship on its first course.  
  
He imagined she was thinking of her parents, long since in their shared grave on Kessik IV, where they had retired. Her second son was the captain of the state-of-the-art vessel. "They would've loved this," she had whispered to him. He looked over at her, and smiled.  
  
"They all would've. Because they all loved her."  
  
"But this is a tribute to all of them- all of you. You were all part of the legend."  
  
He pondered that in his head, sitting in his office like he had eighty years ago. Legends never die, and he was part of the legend. Keeper of the legend, if one believed the hoards of people who were constantly asking to interview him. But was it his time to go? He had no contemporaries; he was more of a historical curiosity than anything else. He had never really thought about deactivation before. Honestly, though, what would he do? All of eternity stretched before him, and he didn't really know if he wanted to stick around for eternity. Things were already different; did he really want to stick around until the Federation developed time-travel ships? Until they could visit other galaxies?  
  
Maybe he should just have someone deactivate him for the last time. After all, immortality wasn't all it had seemed to be in early Earth history. Explorers had searched for a Fountain of Youth; he had been given it, and he didn't really want it. Life was made to end, and he felt awkward without one.  
  
He could just deactivate himself right where he was, and never have to deal with the question again. He could simply vanish into the pages of history, where the rest of the crew had gone. And perhaps, where he belonged.  
  
He pondered for a moment what would happen to his lab on Io, with decades of careful research on Borg technology in medicine. Starfleet, he decided, would send its best medical minds over to analyze and utilize his findings, although his major breakthrough had just recently been published. They would take good care of the work, because there were many who understood its value. He'd spent decades carefully guarding the research, so Starfleet would have a field day with it now.  
  
He tapped an encoding into the museum records, one that would prevent his reactivation. It would be easy to activate it, and be done. And yet, he couldn't force himself to set it and deactivate himself. It was like committing suicide. The old Hippocratic Oath in him prevented him from ending a life, even his own, even if it was due to end.  
  
Was there an afterlife for holograms? Or would he just fade away? He drummed the table as he pondered the question, carefully avoiding the control that would decide his fate. He wondered what Starfleet would think. Maybe he should write a note. No, he didn't have to justify himself to anyone. He was his own person, and had the right to control his fate just like anyone else.  
  
Rhea entered his thoughts. The thought of the beautiful liberated holonurse he had fallen in love with so many years ago still brought old regrets. He still missed her, sometimes. Perhaps, had he married her, he would want to live forever. But he hadn't even heard about her for half a century now. Half a century without Rhea, and he had never found anyone else that he loved like he had loved her. She, too, had probably faded by now into the mists of time.  
  
It's my time. The decision was quick and final. He pressed the control, ensuring that he wouldn't be activated again. They would never decode it, as he had used a creative approach, mixed with Borg encoding, and an interesting little trick B'Elanna had used once. He was sure of himself, and ready to meet whatever was next.  
  
He had done what Captain Janeway had asked. He had taken care of them. Now, he was left without a purpose. It was time to go.  
  
Seven of Nine was long gone, but her voice rang in his thoughts like she was beside him. Legends never die.  
  
"Computer, deactivate the EMH." 


End file.
